System Defrag
by ricecooker2000
Summary: One-shots, prequels, and even sequels that belong with Security Breach but doesn't fit in main story. Updates sporadically and without warning.
1. StepbrothersSundaysTakeoff

{Saving:} Snapshots from Security Breach universe.

{Command} Go read that first. Things will make more sense.

{Timeline decoding:}

0.x = pre Security Breach event

1.x = during Security Breach event

2.x = post Security Breach event

RC.x = alternate universe scenarios (RC stands for release candidate)

Disclaimer: Do not own Dance Central characters... would donate a kidney to have Harmonix hire me though. Or just to chat with the designers about the characters' backstories... lol

* * *

#############

0.1.52 Step-brothers

#############

He wipes his sweaty palms on the hem of his shirt. He fidgets. If his mom isn't standing right next to him, he would have started chewing his nails.

There's the slam of a car door. Multiple footsteps. His mom opens the door before they even have the chance to knock.

"Hello! Come in, come in." She leans in to kiss the man on the cheek. Tae has seen him plenty of times before. He shows up at the door right before the babysitter. He drives them around in his fancy car. Even cooked dinner for them once.

But it's the older boy next to him that catches his attention.

The first thing Tae notices is his height. The other boy stands straight, and at least a feet taller than himself

The second thing is his hair. It's longer than any of the boys' he knows. It is slicked back from his face with gel, and tied behind his neck in a neat, presentable ponytail.

"Good morning, Mrs. Ghil. It's a pleasure," he greets. His voice is gentle, with the hint of a melodious accent.

Tae is fascinated. In that voice, he hears the whisper of secrets, laughter of the wind, and it's followed closely by an undercurrent of sorrow.

"Oblio, it's so nice to finally meet you," she smiles warmly and shakes his extended hand. She immediately turns to the father, "He has good manners. You raised him up well."

Tae finds himself being pushed forward. He comes face-to-face with him. He feels Oblio's dark eyes examining him, taking in the baby-face with a stubby nose, the baggy clothing that he hasn't grown into yet, and his Velcro-laced sneakers with an enigmatic expression. Tae fidgets again, his hands going behind his back to twist into his T-shirt.

"Hello, Tae." There it is again. That wondrous voice is speaking to him.

He cannot answer. His voice, small and squeaky, will sound so... ugly.

"Tae," his mother admonishes lightly, "Be polite. Say hi."

His eyes are drift down to the ground. "Hi," he answers back shyly.

And waits. But a reply never comes.

Tae looks up. Oblio is already gone, his mom ushering him around. She shows him their entire house, the family pictures, and then seats him at the dinner table.

He climbs into his usual seat, across the table from Oblio. For some unknown reason, the fact that he has to use two seat pillows to boost himself up is suddenly embarrassing. He hopes nobody notices.

It is a big meal for a lunch. Tae has never seen such a variety of his favorite foods since his last birthday. Kimbap, galbi, and store-bought oden.

He is happily chewing through a greasy rib eye when the two adults at the table begins to speak.

"Oblio, Tae, I think it's time we made the announcement," his mother takes a deep breath. Her hand, goes across the table to grasp the man's, "We've decided... to get married."

Tae drops the food. "Does that mean I'll get to ride in the pretty car all the time?"

His future step-father chuckles. "Of course." His mom lets out the breath she's been holding with visible relief. She isn't sure what to expect, or how much an eight-year-old can understand the concept of marriage. Things seem to be going well though.

Three pairs of eyes slowly drift to the remaining silent one at the table. Oblio, with chopsticks poised gracefully in one hand, finishes chewing the pickled vegetables.

A quiet clink as he sets the utensils down. "Congratulations. I am happy for you two," he murmurs quietly. The corners of his mouth lift up, and he graces everyone with a brilliance of a rare smile.

That's when the realization hits Tae.

His step-brother is utterly perfect.

###########

0.1.54 Sundays

###########

A smart, polite, and charming young man. There's just nothing... Tae can dislike about Oblio.

He follows his new older brother like a puppy. Wagging his tail for praise and taking scraps of affection as if it's the best thing in the world. Their parents keeps talking about what big-name university he'll get accepted into. What he'll study and if he'll become a doctor, lawyer, or a corporate CEO.

When Oblio wins another chess tournament or chalks up another A+ on his already impressive report card, Tae also glows with pride.

Sundays soon becomes his favorite day of the week. That is when Oblio will take him to the park, and buy them each a scoop of Blazin' Blue Raspberry from ice cream truck. They will sit on a park bench, watch kids play on the jungle gym, couples having a picnic date, and runners jogging around the track while slowly eating their chilly treat.

Half of it ends up in Tae's mouth, and the other half smeared across his face. Not his fault, really. Ice cream melts way too fast in the balmy summer heat.

Oblio takes a napkin and silently begins to meticulously clean the blue stickiness around his mouth.

"I wanna grow up to be just like you," Tae blurts out suddenly. Oblio pauses. His face goes blank and he does not say anything.

He finishes wiping Tae's face. Crumples up the napkin in his strong hand.

"That would be a tragedy," he replies simply. With the quirk of a melancholic smile.

His words confuse Tae. To be like Oblio would be awesome in his ten-year-old mind. It's like the equivalent of becoming a superhero with amazing, cool powers.

Tae doesn't think too much on it anymore, the raspberry ice cream is dripping down his hand, demanding his immediate attention.

It will be years later when he'll finally remember those words. As he rigorously trains for Dance Central. When he hears the wild cheering from his new crew of friends. And every time his heart skips a beat as she calls out his name.

Oblio doesn't want him to follow his footsteps. He wants him to grow into his own person.

###########

0.1.56 Take-off

###########

It all changes when Oblio turns eighteen.

Their parents bought him a sports bike for his birthday. It's been the sole occasion when he actually requested a present. So how can they possibly refuse? He already acquired the necessary license on his own sometime after he turned sixteen.

For the first few days, Oblio and the motorcycle seem to merge into one living entity. He comes and goes, riding his bike to unknown places, and coming home at odd hours.

Mom becomes worried. His father assumes it is just a phase of teenage rebellion. And they both earnestly believe he will tire of the new toy and go back to model student they all know and love.

Tae, a bit older and wiser now, doesn't see it that way. In fact, an incident later that week practically convinces him.

On his way back from school that day, he bumps into Oblio. At least, he thinks it's Oblio. He looks so different that Tae really isn't sure.

Instead of his school uniform, the lithe teenager wears a dark, leather bomber jacket with ripped jeans. The jacket is unzipped, and allows Tae a glimpse of a wife-beater and torn black fishnet that hug close to his chest. His hair is loose. Half of it covers his face, and the other half, behind his head, sticks out in odd angles with the tips dyed an electric blue.

The teenager leans against the brick wall of a shady-looking building, looking up at the sky as if it holds all the answers. A lit cigarette dangles loosely in his hand. And when he raises it to take a drag, Tae can see his nails are painted a dark plum.

At that exact moment, a scantily clad girl appears from the entrance of the run-down establishment, and catches sight of the dark-haired male.

"Oblio! C'mon it's almost your turn. You promised me you'll show me _your_ _moves..._" The way she plasters herself against him is borderline indecent. Tae cannot believe his eyes or ears.

He waits until the two of them disappear inside. Then he crosses the street to the building. Upbeat music drifts from the ajar door. Nobody's there, so Tae sneaks himself in.

The narrow, dirty staircase goes down to some kind of underground basement. It is dark. There are no windows. The music blares so loud his ears might as well be bleeding. There are so many people, but nobody paid the short Asian boy any attention. In fact, everyone is focusing on what's happening in the middle of the floor.

Glitch remains glued on the stairs, and leans forward against the handrails for a better look.

Oblio stands in the middle of the clearing. Tall, proud, and stoic. His arms are crossed, his jacket gone, exposing his adult-like, muscular frame for all to see. He watches in contemplative silence as the person in front of him break out moves. A shorter, darker-skinned dancer tuts, threads, and then twitches in an odd robotic manner.

Raucous cheers comes from a section of the crowd. But then Oblio steps forward. He bends forward, like a leopard preparing to pounce, and throws himself into the air. He prowls like a predator. Cunning and calculating. Each movement has a purpose, he wastes no energy. It is power, but it is also poetry.

Oblio finishes with a gentlemanly bow. The people go wild. Tae lets out the breath he doesn't even realized he's been holding.

As he runs the rest of the way home, Tae's mind works furiously.

Oblio lives two lives. The front that he put up for their parents. And this other- the true side of Oblio- that he has always so skillfully hid away. And the young Korean knew for sure the person in the dark, musty basement is the real Oblio.

Because he was smiling.

That night, he hears yelling downstairs. There is a crash of broken glass, and then the violent slam of the door. As silence fills the house again, Tae peeks outside from his bedroom window into the driveway.

Oblio is sitting on top of his bike, the motor roaring into life.

He glances up. Their eyes meet.

Tae ducks, feeling as if he shouldn't be looking. And the next time he peers over the window sill again, Oblio's gone.

###########

* * *

Notes:

-Uh... Some backstory that I feel is necessary. I can't fit these into Security Breach. And there's going to be random scenarios that I want to write out later.

-Well, guess his real name is revealed. Tae Chin Ghil. Scramble the first two initials and the last name and you get... SURPRISE! haha I think I'm so clever...

-Freaking brother complex! I can't write this and not think of the infamous Sasuke/Itachi relationship. It's pretty complicated though. As Chap 6 will prolly tell. Glitch might have worshipped him when he was little. But it's quite a different story now.

- Oblio's fav ice cream flavor is Blazin' Blue Raspberry in the developer blogs. I wonder how it tastes like... and if he only likes it b/c it matches his hair...

Moral of story: This is for all those people who feels like they will never live up to your parent's expectations. It's alllll goooood. Just be happy with yourself. :D


	2. DrunkCharmBrave

{Timeline decoding:}

1.5.x = event during Security Breach Ch 5

1.5x.x =event between end of Ch 5 and Ch 6

{Apply to all codes}

* * *

#############

1.5.4 Drunk

#############

They weren't kidding. She is heavy.

"Is she made of muscle? Or iron?" He grumbles to himself.

Glitch wheezes as he struggles to move the barely-unconscious Emilia. He finally settles for swinging her arm around his shoulders, using his other arm to help support her, and half walking, half dragging her drunken ass off the beach.

The phrase "not boyfriend material" keeps blinking on and off in his head. The freshman wonders why he even bothers. The fact that he's shorter than her really doesn't help at this particular moment.

"Eyo, ova here!" Glitch perks up at the sound of Mo's voice. His mentor waves at him as he opens the door to a bright yellow taxi parked on the empty street.

"Thought I left ya huh? Haha, I went to go grab a cab," Mo chuckles at the sight of the two, "Dun think we can jus drop her off. She lives with her ma, and it won't do both of 'em any good for her to see Em like dis."

"So what are the options?"

"Mah place. You're free ta crash too, I should have room fo all of us."

Which isn't really a lie. But not completely the truth either.

Because when the two of them dump Emilia unceremoniously on Mo's double-sized bed, Glitch notice there's only one spot on the couch in the modest one-room studio.

"Uh... where am I going to sleep?"

Mo grins. He points with his chin at the bed. "I gots da couch. I sleep dere most of the time anyways."

"Why do I have to sleep with her? We barely fit!" Glitch protests. His face is getting warm, and he's glad Emilia is passed out and blissfully ignorant on the mattress.

"Cuz dere's no way in hell I can fit if _you_ can't?"

He can't argue against that kind of logic. Mo tosses him an extra blanket. "Jus go ta sleep already. You're sharin' a bed. Not like anythin's gonna happen."

Glitch opens his mouth to argue. But the night's activities swiftly catch up to him. The bonfire, the two cans of beer he drank, and dragging Emilia up the stairs. So his words turns into a yawn instead.

"G'night bro," His mentor calls out. He only sees the top of Mo's head poking out on the armrest. The rest of him is swallowed up by the couch. So Mo can't see just how uncomfortable he is about the idea.

The kid looks down at the sprawled mess of limbs snoring lightly on the bed. Gingerly, he pulls the covers out from under Emilia, and then readjusts the blanket over her. All the while rehearsing some sort of apology in case she does wake up in the middle of the night and demands an explanation.

Then again, knowing her, she would just beat him to a pulp first and ask questions later.

He lies still. His arms are glued to his side, and he tries to tune out the sound of her steady breathing. It feels so close. If he closes his eyes, he can feel the rise and sinking from her side of the bed.

Twenty minutes later, he is still awake. His eyelids are heavy, but his mind is running on overdrive. Glitch suddenly hears her moving. The old springs squeak as Emilia's arm suddenly whips out and slaps him across the face.

"Oomph!" He glances over, but she's fast asleep. Then a knee jabs him roughly in the side. "What the-?"

"Wut's goin' on?" Mo mumbles sleepily.

"Mo!" Glitch hisses desperately, "She's kicking me!"

A deep chuckle comes from the couch. "Den kick 'er back youngun'. Sho her who's boss."

"Not funny man..." Glitch answers darkly. He scoots further to his side, hoping to avoid more of her violence.

Eventually, she calms down. But he will undoubtedly have bruises to show for the one-sided battle tomorrow. He sighs, and hopes for sleep.

And then the sleep-talking begins.

Glitch groans as he hears her mumble random incoherencies. Something about skipping class. There's a snake loose in the airplane. How she's always wanted to go spelunking but Bodie's too chicken.

He starts to tune her out when he catches a mention of his name. Curiosity seizes him, and he leans in closer.

"That kid ... so much potential. B, why... we recruit ? Need more guys... in the crew..."

If he can glow, then he would be blasting enough megawatts to light up the nation at that moment. He leans back, his head sinking into the pillow with contentment. Sleep comes easily now.

Glitch doesn't stir an inch until the faint rays of a Sunday morning seep in thru the window blinds and hit his closed eyelids.

He slowly turns around. Instead of Emilia, there's a mess of rumpled sheets on the other side of the bed.

He finds a note on her pillow. Glitch rubs his eyes and squints at the messy scrawl.

_Hey guys, _

_Thanks for taking care of me last night. Woke up early and didn't feel like disturbing you two. _

_Glitch, you look so cute when you're asleep. Too bad I can't say the same when you're awake. :P_

_See you guys at practice! _

_Em_

###########

1.63.7 Charm

###########

"Thanks for the ride dude! I'll see you guys later," Emilia smiles as she slams the door. Glitch gets out from the car to take the now empty passenger seat. They just finished their late night celebration at Denny's. Zipp's place is nearby, so he decides to go back on foot. So it turns out to be him, Mo, PB, Bodie, and Emilia in the car. And by some stroke of luck, Emilia is the last one before Glitch to be dropped off.

"Yo Glitch," Mo says as they watch the lifeguard make her way up the stairs to her place, "Can ya do me a favor?"

"Wassup?"

"I forgot she still has my comic books. Jus go up and ask her real quick, she knows which ones I'm talkin' bout."

"Uh... sure." He gives Mo a careful look. It's well known Mo can be a prankster. Ever since their recent fight, however, he's been treating his little protegee well.

Glitch is always happy to return the favor. His mind mulls over what to say as he climbs three flights of stairs. It's really quiet. But then again, it is around midnight. No doubt everyone is sleeping.

He knocks on the door with the number Mo told him. Tells himself to not fidget even though his stomach is churning with the barely digested food.

"Who is – Oh hey," Emilia greets him at the door, her hair loose but her outfit the same. Looks like he caught her in the middle of changing. "Do you need something?"

"Mo sent me to get his comic books." The moment he utters the words, he hears the puttering starts of an engine, and the sounds of Mo's scrap pile of a car zooming off into the night.

Emilia leans against the doorframe with a confused expression. "Really?"

He wants to kick himself. Of course Mo can't be trusted! The prankster really knows no bounds, even daring to pull this kind of stunt just a mere few hours after they went back to being friends.

Glitch closes his eyes exasperatedly. "You don't have them do you? Well...that's an epic fail."

She laughs lightly. "Did Mo just strike again?" Despite himself, he chuckles too. His earlier nerves forgotten as he laughs at his own ridiculous predicament. "Yea. My bads."

"What are you going to do?" Emilia asks. He shrugs.

"Walk?"

Her eyes grow wide. "At midnight? In this part of the neighborhood?"

He straightens up. Tries to ignore the fact he's still short and can only reach up to her chin. "So? I can take care of myself."

"Hold on." She runs inside. Comes out a few seconds later with a warm blazer on and locks the door behind her. "C'mon I'll walk you."

"Wait what? No, I don't need a girl to walk-" Glitch stops mid-sentence as he realizes that's exactly what Mo's been planning along. That and Emilia is already halfway down the first flight of stairs.

"Oh whatever, it's for my own peace of mind!" she casually calls out over her shoulder as she jogs down another flight. He shakes his head, and with a slight smile, runs downstairs to catch up.

The night air is chilly. He breaths out, and sees the wisps of white vapors form in the streetlight. They walk side-by-side in the empty streets.

"How are you getting back?" he asks casually.

"Walk," she answers like it's the most obvious answer.

"How is that different-"

"I know this neighborhood," Emilia interrupts him, "And they know me. I don't think they want to mess with a juvie delinquent who went to jail before."

"Oh." He goes silent. "Well I feel much safer now."

There's a break in her stride, but she keeps going. "Did you just make a joke?"

"Maybe."

It earns another round of laughter from her. He quietly congratulates himself on a job well done. He's suddenly reminded of a game he played where the guy gets points for selecting the right action to impress the chick.

_Add two points._

He grins as he sneaks a glance at the girl next to him. Her brown hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders. It softens her face somehow. He randomly wonders how she would look with longer hair. A flash of red catches his attention.

"Oh, you still have that," he says as he points to the bright bandanna tied to her belt loop.

It might be a trick of the light, but Emilia looks a bit flushed. "Yeah, I do. Did you want it back?" She actually stops in the middle of the sidewalk, and fumbles with the tight knot.

"No! I mean- it's okay-" His hand goes out to stop her before he realizes what he's doing. She looks up.

He looks away. Lets go of her wrist reluctantly.

"Uh... you can keep it. I got extras." He desperately hopes Mo does anyways. "You guys have your match tomorrow right? It can be like a good luck charm." Glitch mentally slaps himself for the unbelievable corniness.

_Minus five points._

She doesn't say anything at first. He watches as a slow, sincere smile materialize on her face.

"Really? Cool!" She continues forward, swinging her arms freely, while he tries to recover from the somersaulting something in his chest.

Mo probably knows. And tonight won't be the last of his tricks. The freshman doesn't know how much of this he can take.

He likes it. He hates it.

Glitch looks down at his traitorous hand. He smirks.

_Plus 10 points._

###########

1.7.5 Brave

###########

Mo tells him it's not a good idea to watch Riptide's match.

_"It won't do ya no good kid. Gotta stay focused."_

This is one of those times where he regrets listening to him. He doesn't go watch. He only sees the results.

Glitterati's crew logo sits smugly on the winning half of the draw when he arrives at the building.

That doesn't tell him anything. Glitch wonders how Bodie and Emilia are doing. If anyone had a chance to stand up to the twins, it would be Riptide. And from the look of it, it seems the morning's match was a wipe out.

Nerves start to claim Glitch. His stomach churns with the light dinner he had. He's waiting outside the doors to the Penthaus, the venue for today's final rounds. He has to crane his head back at a painful angle to see the top of the massive tower. And he silently wonders if that's just another way to emphasize the difference in skill level.

He gets the feeling of being watched. Glitch turns slowly, and sees Emilia climbing the short flight of stairs to stand next to him.

"Hey," he greets her, checking her expression for any visible signs of distress. "How's...it going?"

Emilia shrugs with a half-hearted smile. "Meh, I can be better. But listen-"

Her hand goes to rest on his shoulder. Emilia leans down, and says in a serious voice, "I heard about Oblio and Tan situation from B. Are you really going through with this?"

He wants to be brave in front of her. But truthfully, he's shaking inside. Not trusting his own mouth, he utters a simple: "Yeah."

It doesn't sound too reassuring for her. Emilia seem more worried than before. She chews lightly on her lips, deliberating her next words. He wonders if this is the right moment.

If his life was a video game, and he himself as the main character, this is the part before he faces the last boss. The hero has a heart-touching moment with the girl, they share a kiss, and then heads courageously into battle.

There's so many things that can go wrong tonight. Aubrey might not be able to catch Tan in action. The other crews might not be able to protect him. Mo's plan might not fall through. He might end up like Oblio, his existence erased and whisked away to some unknown location.

And she will never know what he feels.

As that last thought passes through his mind, Glitch relaxes. A strange calmness flows within his limbs, and the previous insecurities now seem frivolous and silly.

"Em," He says simply with a smile. "I like you."

Her expression is priceless. He mentally rewards himself with more points as he takes in the gaping mouth, the saucer-like eyes, and her eyebrows look like they're going to meet up with her trademark hairband.

"Are you-"

"It's okay. I know you don't feel the same. Don't trip. I just wanted you to know, in case..." Glitch swallows. He doesn't want to finish the sentence.

It feels surprisingly good to get that off of his chest. He turns towards the main entrance, his hand reaching up to the steel door handles.

"Wait-"

Before he can react, she pulls him around. Just like the other time, her lips brush against his cheek. Only this time, it's not accidental.

Glitch stills. He does not dare test his voice as he blankly stares back at a pair of mixed hazel.

"That's for good luck. I'll be cheering for you." Her words do not match her expression. Nor is it what he really wants to hear. But he doesn't have the luxury of time to ask as she pushes him towards the waiting door.

"Go. Don't be late." He doesn't need to turn around to know she's gone. He steps into the elevator, and as the metal doors close behind, he wonders just exactly what he is feeling right now.

There's excitement pumping in his veins. His feet feel light, they barely touch the ground as he walks. He checks out his reflection in the glass. His hair is gelled, the rebellious streak of green stands up proudly. A new, reddish-brown bandanna hangs from his neck, his neon-colored crew outfit hangs comfortingly around his frame, and the biker gloves grip his hands warmly as he clench and unclench his fists.

An eager face smiles back at him.

He's ready.

###########

* * *

Notes:

- Not actually sure if the last one will be included in the next chap of Security Breach. If it is... I'll just del from here and ppl got a free preview. xD

- I was in such an odd mood. I can't explain the fluff... but then again that's why I have this fic! It's like a sketch dump, but for writing... hehe.

- So proud that I semi-broke the 4th wall with the vid game references. xD

- I hope I answered that one reviewer's q abt Glitch being able to carry Emilia. Answer: He can't. lol

Moral of story: Uh... never sleep with a drunk girl?


	3. EncounterMorningAfter

{Timeline decoding:}

0.4.x = event before Security Breach

{Apply to all codes}

* * *

#############

0.4.2 Encounter

#############

She looks so out of place here. Admist the sea of scantily clad women and posers with fake bling hanging around their necks, the high school student sticks out like a sore thumb.

His lazy gaze travels up and down. Taking in the plaid socks, designer loafers, the ridiculous suspenders, and the freshly-ironed polo shirt with a smirk.

She might be Daddy's little princess anywhere else. But in here, in the Paradiso club, this is his territory. And she is just another lost little lamb.

All of a sudden, she turns to meet his gaze. He likes the way she stares. Brazen, proud, and with just a hint of disdain. Without hesitation, she makes her way over through the ocean of swaying bodies to where he lounges on the unoccupied loveseat.

She stops a foot away. Her gaze runs over him and he has to ruefully admit, he kind of likes it.

"Are you the one they call Angel?" The girl asks without preamble.

One dark brow rises. A dame with an agenda. That makes her even more interesting.

"What if I am?" he answers with a slight drawl. It's his turn to survey her, his dark eyes raking over her figure. He notes the expensive, but classy jewelry dangling from her wrist. The designer hand bag hanging off of her shoulder must be worth hundreds. Her fiery hair are set into immaculate curls, and her face painted in flattering tones.

"I'm here to offer you a challenge," She shifts her weight onto one leg, props a hand on a jutting hip, "I hear you're the best dancer here."

"Oh is that right? And why do you think," he gestures at her with an offhand wave, "you'll be a challenge?"

She scoffs. "Because I have been dancing all my life. Miscreants like you, who loiter around shameful facilities such as this, knows nothing about the true sophistication of dancing!"

That catches his attention. The smirk never leaving his face, the man snaps his fingers. Immediately, a staff member appears and he orders something under his breath. He then turns back to her, and gestures to the empty spot next to him.

"Please, have a seat miss...?"

"That will be Miss Aubrey to you," she sniffs haughtily, "And no thank you. I did not come here for a drink."

"No, no," he tsks at her playfully, "the drink is not for you. It's for me. Because after meeting a charming girl like yourself, I definitely need some liquid strength."

Miss Aubrey resists the urge to roll her eyes.

This is not where she wants to be right now. She's missing her appointments at her favorite pedicurist, and her toes are curling with disgust at the filthy establishment. Her day was proceeding along splendidly according to schedule... until Cassandra, her new friend of the week, decides to burst out in tears in the middle of their Roman Classics course.

The poor girl shamelessly spills her guts to an indifferent Aubrey. Apparently, her heart has been recently broken by a tall, dark, handsome stranger. He showered her with attention left and right, and when she finally admitted to her affections, he dumped her.

Sounds like just the kind of trouble Cassandra would get into.

Miss Aubrey detest all forms of pettiness. If the guy leaves, that is that. Regather your dignity and move on. The worst thing you can possibly do is to discard your sense of pride and chase after him. Or seek revenge.

Which is why she refused when Cassandra begged for her help. Said it was too base and not worth the time.

Between sniffles, Cassandra choked out one sentence that finally did it.

_"Well you never would know... sniff... how I feel because... sniff... you never had a boyfriend."_

It's a well-known fact Aubrey doesn't date. Between the school, fencing, violin, and equestrian lessons she simply does not have the time. Never mind the fact that no guy will ever be good enough for her. But to hear those words said in that manner, it pricks at her pride in a most undelightful manner.

So now the prissy redhead finds herself standing in a crowded, filthy dance joint. Getting ogled by this good-looking stranger while trying to figure out a way to enact vengeance on him and be done with it.

"Why don't you join me Miss Aubrey? The quicker I finish the bottle, the faster we can... tango on the dance floor."

She resists the urge to sneer at his lines. Regardless, she sits down, a plan taking shape in her head as he pours her a glass of bubbling champagne.

The original seduction plan looks less and less appealing. She was going to pull him to the floor,  
give him a taste of what it really means to dance, pique his interest, and hopefully publicly humiliate him with a rejection.

Her eyes peek at him over the brim of the glass flute.

She can see why Cassandra would fall heads over heels over this guy. He has a strong profile, a charming smile, and looking at his outfit, a decent sense of style.

She lets the bubbles fizz in her mouth, and grimaces at the taste. This isn't like the high-class drinks she's used to, but since it is his treat, she isn't going to complain. She has impeccable manners after all.

"Miss Aubrey," her name rolls off his tongue so smoothly, "Tell me why a classy lady, such as yourself, is hanging around here?"

Lying outright isn't her forte. She tips back the rest of the drink. Grabs his hand and begins to pull him out of the seat. "Why don't I show you instead?"

Yet moment she stands up, dizziness hits her like a sledgehammer. Confusion show in her features. The overhead lights swim in a sluggish manner. Her legs feel weightless.

She feels a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist. Pulling her back down to the couch.

"Someone can't hold their liquor?" There's humor in his voice.

Her head is too heavy. Aubrey rests her forehead against the offered shoulder, her eyes lolling up to gaze at his charming features.

She frowns, her brows furrowing together. She drinks wine at family gatherings all the time. Her tolerance is decent, and she's only had one glass...

"You...drugged me," she manages to slur out.

In reply, he pats her head affectionately, and murmurs a gentle goodnight. He watches wordlessly as her eyes close, and admires the way her long lashes cast shadows on her flawless skin.

He spits out the tiny sip he kept in his mouth. With a satisfied grin, he puts his arm around her shoulders, pulls her in close so it looks like they're a couple, and waits.

Sure enough, a white Fedora hat appears in the crowd. The women watch him, their eyes hungrily eating up the tailored suit, the chic accessories, and his chiseled features as the homies try to contain their jealousy. The masses part for him easily. Like oil on water, he glides through the ropes that mark the VIP section and ends up in front of the couch.

"Que pasa Angel?" He drawls out and offers him his free hand. The newcomer returns the familiar handshake, and sits down on the table.

"Did you... handle it?" The one who everyone knows as Angel asks.

His friend points down at the unconscious girl by his side in reply. "What do you think? Your boy Carlos still got it."

Angel takes one look at Aubrey, and groans. "No man, you got the wrong chica."

"Serious? She came in looking for you!" Carlos looks down at the redhead. "I mean this isn't the first time I helped you get rid of a chick, you sure she's not it? Angel you went through so many girls-"

"No," Angel interrupts firmly, "She's not the one. You messed up hombre." He looks down at the table with the unfinished drink. "Did you...drug her?"

Carlos shrugs. "You said you wanted her cooperation." At his friend's darkening expression, he quickly backtracks, "Ah well, she'll wake up eventually. I wasn't going to do anything... really!"

Angel curses. "Tonto, look at what she's wearing. She's not a nobody. You'll get into serious trouble for this."

Realization dawns upon Carlos. He swears, and pushes Aubrey's unresponsive body away from himself as if she's a disease. He looks up at Angel with growing panic, "Yo what are we going to do?"

Angel sighs. He should've never sent another to do what should have been his job.

Yes, he's a ladies' man. Multiple ladies, in fact. Which means he can't settle down with just one.

But he always goes into these affairs with both parties agreeing that it'll be a no-strings attached fling. Sometimes a girl would get a bit too attached, and that's when Angel calls in one of his backups to provide another form of distraction. Lately, a girl-was her name Cassie or Sandra?- has been getting too clingy, and Carlos was one of the few who agreed to tackle this one.

He reaches over to pick up the unconscious girl off of the couch. She nestles her face against the crook of his neck like a newborn kitten. Suddenly, anger at his friend and his unscrupulous ways flare up within his chest. This girl is just an innocent bystander as far as he is concerned.

"You, can get lost," Angel dismisses Carlos with a terse nod, "I'll handle it."

His friend doesn't bother arguing. He leaves without a backwards glance.

The Latino VIP glance down at the sleeping beauty in his arms. She's starting to hiccup in between breaths. A precursor to vomiting.

He mutters underneath his breath, knowing and dreading what will happen next.

"Maldita sea!"

#############

0.4.5 Morning After

#############

The sunlight warms her face. She always enjoy waking up with the early rays of dawn, but the sunlight streaming in from the window is too hot for it to be morning. In fact, it'll ruin her sensitive complexion.

Miss Aubrey blinks. And instantly sees swimming spots in her vision. With a groan, her hand goes to cover her eyes as she rolls onto the other side.

She freezes. This is not her bed.

Slowly Miss Aubrey opens her eyes, letting her hand fall back to her side, and finds herself covered in pristine, white sheets. She feels under the cover, and find herself clothed only in her lingerie.

Panic crawls all over her, making goosebumps appear on her skin. She tries to remember last night... and finds it disturbingly blurry. Taking deep breaths to calm herself, she recalls specific events.

The club. Meeting Angel. Having a drink or two...

Cold realization slices down her spine. The drink. She was drugged.

Numbly, the redhead slowly checks herself. Everything is working fine. Only her head's a bit groggy. She looks underneath the light cotton comforter. Nothing. She lets out the breath she's been holding.

The squeak of the shower faucet shutting off breaks her out the reverie. The sounds of water was so faint that she didn't even notice. But now the sounds of someone opening and closing a shower stall is deafeningly loud.

He's still here, she realizes with horror. He hasn't finished with what he's intending to do.

Thinking fast, Miss Aubrey wraps the bed sheets around herself, preserving some semblance of modesty as she makes for the door. She tries to ignore the floor tilting, and the spots still dancing in her vision.

The door seems so far. She's making progress by the inches, her hand going to lean against the wall for support. She internally curses for whoever designed the layout of the room. Who really needs the bathroom right by the main entrance?

Just a few feet from freedom, she hears a click. Out of the corner of her eye, the redhead sees the bathroom door handle slowly turn.

She acts without thinking. Her hand at the wall grabs at the nearest, heaviest-looking object. She turns. Uses her entire body as momentum right as the door opens, and aims to smash the coffee pot at the stranger's face.

Wait. Stranger? As in... never met him before?

Her brown eyes widen with surprise. Too late. She can't stop herself, and she watches helplessly as the empty pot make hard contact with his face.

"Mierda!" A hand quickly restrains her wrist. Miss Aubrey watches in quiet disbelief as more foreign phrases spew from the new guy.

"What the hell are you doing?" He demands as he finally takes a look at her, rubbing his left cheek tenderly.

Miss Aubrey straightens up to her full height. "I can ask you the same. I wake up without my clothes in a strange hotel room, and a guy," she gestures wildly at his dripping hair and glistening, well-sculpted body covered only by a towel, "_a half-naked man_ tries to have his way with me! I'm alerting the authorities!"

"Whoa there," the guy replies defensively, "I would never! Dios mios, calm down miss-"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Aubrey cries out, "You'll never get away with this you-you... fiend!"

An eyebrow quirks at her word choice. "That's it? I've been called worse."

She stands there, red-faced and out of breath. His nonchalant attitude is galling. Infuriating. She notes he's still holding the wrist, which in turn, is still holding the offending coffee pot.

"Let me go."

"Let go of the pot first." When her nostrils begin to flare at his command, he adds, "Por favor chica."

There's something about his voice. He's nothing like the guy she met last night. He has a certain cadence, a undulating dip and rise in his tone. It's smooth, soothing, and for some reason it quiets her rattled nerves.

Her hand loosens its grip, and his other hand takes the coffee pot as he releases her.

"Hey, I know this looks bad, but trust me, I wasn't going to do anything to you," he continues on as he gently sets it back into the coffee maker. "You fell unconscious last night. I escorted you here, had a hotel staff undress you, and put you in the bed. I slept in that chair over by the windows."

"Where are my clothes?" She demands immediately. He makes a face. "Probably at the dry cleaner's still. Your body wanted to get rid of the drug... in a messy way."

That explains why they had to undress her. An uneasy quiet settles between the two.

She wishes he would put on some clothes. Or a shirt. It's unfair how comfortable he is standing there with only a wet bath towel tied loosely around his hips. While she is inwardly squirming at her own state of undress.

"What I would like to know is why a decent girl like you were at the club in the first place. You don't see a private school kid in these parts, barging into a club, and asking for Angel of all people," he continues on, "You catch my drift?"

"I have private business with Angel."

He smirks. "Many women have business with Papi Chulo. Why couldn't you just call him?" When she doesn't speak, he prods further.

"You actually don't know him, do you?"

She snaps up, a spark lighting up her features. "Of course I do. The slime-ball who I met last night is just as Cassandra described him to be. A complete sleaze and a playboy with no morals!"

Angel winces at her ferocity. "Alright. I guess that answers my question."

The high school student crosses her arm over her chest. That's when the realization dawns on her that her makeshift "clothing" has slipped in the earlier tussle.

Trying to maintain the last remaining bits of her dignity, Miss Aubrey bends slightly at the knees, and clumsily tries grab for the edges of the white bed sheet. She hears an amused chuckle from above.

"Why bother chica? I've seen plenty already."

"Because it's improper," she sniffs. Now decently covered again, she straightens up to regard him again. "And a real gentleman would not be watching like you are."

He laughs then. It's making the hairs on the back of her neck stand. He shakes his head as he walks towards her.

"Incluso un verdadero caballero no habría estado lejos de usted noche ayer."

"What did you just-"

He pulls her in. Presses their bodies closer together. All of a sudden the paper-thin sheets and the measly towel do nothing to hide the fact he's really... male.

"A real gentleman," he breathes softly against her ear, "would still have been sorely tempted with the antics you were throwing last night."

"I-I don't u-understand," Aubrey stammers as she draws back to regard him.

He smiles ruefully. Drawing her line of vision to his full, generous mouth. "The drug not only acts like a sedative, there's some doses of aphrodisiacs too. There were so much in that one drink, it had you going for hours."

She gasps out loud. Scandalous thoughts of exactly what could have, might have happened runs through her mind, and she feels like she's going to faint.

"Never fear princess, I kept my hands to myself. Although, you were making it muy difícil." A playful smirk appears. "But now that you're awake and coherent, why don't you refresh my memory of where exactly you wanted my-?"

She slaps him so hard that it will undoubtedly add on to the coffee pot bruise. His face freezes with surprise, and Aubrey takes advantage of his shock to slip out of his hold.

"Did you really-? Porqué esta asi?"

"You are out of your mind, to think I'll stoop to that level," she warns as she carefully backs away from him. Edging ever closer to the exit. Aubrey catches sight of her handbag, and she snatches it from the counter. She desperately hopes her phone's still in there, so she can call her driver and high tail it out of here.

He doesn't stop her when she opens the heavy door. In fact, he follows her through the doorway, watching her progress with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

"You're... not going to ask for my name, chica?" He asks with a smirk.

"No," she turns away with finality, "Anyone who takes advantage of the situation like this is clearly not worth my time. I hope to never, ever, see your face again."

With a huff, and the regality of a queen, Miss Aubrey walks down the hallway, dragging the train of white bedsheets.

The Latino leans against the wall, his eyes trailing appreciatively over her retreating figure.

"Ah... Siento disentir. I think I will be seeing you. Very soon."

###########

* * *

Notes:

- Yay! My crazy idea of how Aubrey first meets Angel! I mean c'mon what kind of person wears their school uniform to a club? To dance?

- Who thought Carlos was Angel in the beg? I originally saw the Aubrey and Angel in the beginning, exchanging witty words. But then it turned into a stereotypical girl meets boy kinda scenario. And you know I can't stand for that. ;D

- I had to read up on date rape drug. Which means the story rating just got up'ed. xD

- Cassandra's a senior. The club's an 18+ over club. Either way, Aubrey probably bought her way in.

- If it was unclear, Angel tries to set up the persistent girls with his other good-looking guy friends after he deems the fling over. Or have them break the news that he won't be seeing them anymore. Why? Because he can't handle seeing a girl cry. But apparently it's totally ok if he's a heartbreaker... from a distance. lol

- Ugh... apologize for the crappy Spanish. Very limited from high school knowledge and I'm sure Google translate isn't doing a complete job of it.

Moral of story: Always watch while a guy pours you a drink? That and also keep a coffee pot handy at all times for the creepers of the world. :D


	4. Royalty

{Timeline decoding:}

0.4.x = event before Security Breach

{Apply to all codes}

* * *

#############

0.4.7 Royalty

#############

Angry doesn't even begin to describe it.

She's utterly furious.

To begin with, it was such a pain to find the guy who drugged her the other night. Imagine her dismay when she brings the guy to Cassandra, only to have her tell her he's not the guy.

All that trouble, all that work, and she didn't even get the right bastard! Well at least she has the satisfaction of reporting him to the police and making sure this "Carlos" guy is buried under a sea of restraining orders.

Yet here she is again. At the same shady club. Even the bouncer out front recognizes her from the last time.

Or maybe he remembers Benjamin Franklin better. Funny how cooperative people are when she flashes money in their faces.

Aubrey scoffs underneath her breath. This is why she above it all. They're mindless sheep and not worth her time.

She maneuvers her way through the masses of sweaty and swaying bodies. Her feet takes her towards the VIP area, and lo and behold, she sees an awfully familiar face.

He is surrounded by women. Two sitting on the couch, their bodies shamelessly plastered to his chest and thighs. The others are all gathered around the velvet loveseat, all vying for his attention.

He seems bored. Aubrey knows that look very well. It's the same one she has when she sits in at father's company dinners, or when a rich businessman tries to engage her in conversation.

A mask of feigned interest.

So she doesn't feel remorse at all when she steps into view. In fact, a small part of her grins in triumph as his eyes widen with surprise.

He actually has the gall to look embarrassed.

"So you're Angel." She doesn't even bother hiding her rage. It's evident in the tremor in her voice and the tightening of her face.

The Latino VIP recovers quickly. He turns to the girls with a few gentle murmurs, and receives a chorus of giggles from his flock. The ladies reluctantly detach their long legs and indecent bodies from his side, and dissolve into the dance floor. Leaving the two of them alone.

Angel tips the edge of his white Fedora towards her. "Si, that's me. It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Coffeepot."

She huffs with indignation. "I never did get my clothes back."

"I never got a name," he replies without missing a beat, "And if I do recall, somebody said they never, ever, want to see my face again, no?" His eyes twinkle with amusement. If she doesn't know any better, it seems he's silently laughing at her.

Miss Aubrey crosses her arms. Her jaw tightens.

"You. Me. On the dance floor. Right now."

He doesn't not bother hiding the laughter now. A deep, rich chuckle erupts from his entire person, causing the hair on her nape rise. She feels indignation biting at the insides of her cheeks.

"What?" she snaps at him.

Instead of replying, he stands up. He glides on over to her, and offers his arm charmingly.

He's wearing a white suit with a loose scarf. She recognizes the suit from an expensive Fiorelli collection, and for some reason he pulls off the soft carnation pink dress shirt without trying too hard.

Then she remembers how he was wearing nothing the last time.

Miss Aubrey flushes. She purposely walks by him, and Angel straightens up without batting an eye.

"After you," he murmurs with appreciation.

The crowd parts for them easily. It's as if the masses know they are being graced with the presence of higher beings. Untouchable, brilliant creatures that they do not have the right to share the same space.

There's a slight, elevated space made of different colored-light squares in the middle. Padded handholds rise up on two opposite sides, and she remembers seeing some hired dancers perform on the modest stage. Miss Aubrey steps up onto the stage without hesitation and turns around to face him.

"Oh ho, is that a challenger I see?!" the DJ up above yells out into the mic with anticipation. The music scratches, and then a new beat drops.

"Long time we've seen Angel take to the floor ladies and gents. Give it up for the brave challenger!"

_One, two, three, four  
__Uno, dos, tres, cuatro!_

A round of cheers and enthusiasm from the onlookers as Angel also follows her up on the stage. He tips his hat at her again, his voice traveling clearly above the noise.

"Are you sure you know what you're getting into?"

The redhead doesn't bother answering. Her body begins to sway to the music, and she starts to count the beats. Once she has made up her mind, her feet begins to fly.

He cocks an eyebrow at her impressive footwork. She transitions from a lazy meringue, to the mesmerizing hip-sways of the rumba, then finally begins to speed up into a salsa.

_Rumba, si  
__Ella quiere su Rumba, como?_

Angel's gaze comes up to regard her face. He doesn't hesitate at the challenge radiating from her eyes, and he starts to approach her in a wide arc. He keeps his distance. Takes a step, but then retreats. Similar to how a matador approaches the bull.

He begins to match her footwork. Step by step, move by move.

_Si es verdad que tu eres guapa,  
__Yo te voy a poner gozar,_

He snatches her hand from mid-air. The initial indignation on her face is quickly replaced by surprise as he spins her in a vicious circle. His eyes blazes with intensity as he pulls her in close, his other hand goes to grip her free hand.

"We would make a good team chica," Angel comments in an offhand manner. He raises their hands, twirls her around so that her arms wrap around her upper body, his hands still locked on with hers, and forcing her to lean back against his body.

_I know you want me,  
__You know I want cha._

Her first instinct is to scoff. And to tell him off.

Yet anyone with common sense can see it's the truth. They way they move around each other, the way their bodies swerve and magnetically draw to each other other.

There has been no guys at the dance studio who can measure up. Talented, self-confident men were all reduced to an insecure mess by her status and skills. More often than not, she finds her partner too shaken with nerves to even go through the steps properly.

The man should always be leading. In a confident, purposeful manner. She's just traditional that way.

_I know you want me,  
__You know I want cha._

"Ah, should I take your silence as a yes, querida?" His voice is suddenly close. A warm breath near her ear causes her skin to prickle.

Aubrey blinks. She turns her head. His face is a mere inches from hers, with the same look that jolts her back to the hotel room.

"Perhaps," she retorts as she lifts their arms and unwinds herself from his hold, "But I do not appreciate being held back." She shakes their hands loose. Feints a step outward. Then changes her mind.

Angel's smirk falters as her right arm winds around his neck. Her backside presses tantalizingly against his front. Without warning, she plummets to the ground.

His body reacts instinctively. One arm shoots out to support her waist as the redhead drops into a full split. The crowd exploding with an uncontrollable roar.

She's very satisfied with his frozen expression. With a tiny, smug smile, she lets him pull her up to her feet. Her arm still hooked around his neck.

"Impresionante," Angel remarks, motionless and not moving away, "I wasn't expecting that..."

His hand slowly goes up. She assumes to unlatch her arm, but instead his fingers trail a feather-light path from her wrist, to her elbow, traveling further down, and ending at her waist. She sucks in a sharp breath.

With both hands secure around her slim waist, he twists her around, and dips her backwards. So low that her hair almost brushes against the colored tiles. She can feel the blood pounding to her head.

Just as abruptly, he snaps her back up. A gasp escapes her lips at the rush.

With an unusually serious expression, Angel begins to lead her into a series of complex steps.

Step. Heel flick. Pause, and twirl.

He draws her in, pushes her out. The two of them spinning in a furious spiral on the tiny, elevated stage. His hand hooks behind her knee, and Miss Aubrey finds herself flying through the air. She doesn't even have the chance to scream, as he catches bridal style, flips her over his back, and in the same smooth motion, sets her back on her feet.

Slightly out of breath, Miss Aubrey cannot seem to find the proper words. Her feet unsteady and her sense of balance off kilter, she slowly unwinds herself from him. She slowly raises her gaze to his, and sees nothing but the bemusement on his infuriating face.

"Gano esta vez. What did I win chica?"

Aubrey immediately goes to cross her arms. Then realizes he's still holding her right hand prisoner.

"Can I ask for your name as a reward then? Miss-?"

Good manners automatically kicks in. "Aubrey. Miss Aubrey."

Her tone comes across harsher than she intends, but it's better this way. She would simply shrivel up and die if he knew how much he's getting under her skin at this moment.

"Miss Aubrey," He utters her name with velvet undertones. Angel lowers into a humble bow, brings her hand up to his mouth, and bestows a light kiss on her knuckles. "Encantado."

Aubrey clears her throat. She snatches the hand back, and unconsciously takes a step backwards.

Her original plan is unraveling. Not only did she lose to the scoundrel, but she now has no leverage. Nothing to show Cassandra or make him feel repentant.

"I suppose... it's been nice," she manages stiffly after a few quiet seconds. She takes another step and finds herself at the edge of the colorful stage. The music have long changed into a different song. With the battle over, the crowd is also dispersing. Her gaze settles on the light of the exit.

"Leaving so soon princess?"

She sets her jaw. "Do not mock me."

"I would never. The way you walk and talk reminds me of royalty," Angel amends smoothly. "Would you rather be a queen instead?"

"You-!" Aubrey stops, and recomposes herself. She gives him another careful once over, and decides to humor him, "Yes. I suppose that title is more fitting for someone of my caliber."

A grin appears underneath the white Fedora. He offers his arm to her again.

"May I have the honor of escorting you home then, my queen?"

From the edges of her vision, Miss Aubrey can see a sea of faces. The previous flock of women, as well as others, form a distorted collage of disappointment, envy, and maybe even anger. Their eyes are positively daggers digging into her back. A silent, but very loud warning.

The redhead scoffs.

She looks straight ahead. Graces him with a well practiced smile.

And slides her arm through his.

###########

* * *

Notes:

- Ugh... another apology for the crappy Spanish. Google translate is the best I can do at this point~

- Song's from DC1 "Calle Oche" by Pitbull

- Aubrey and Angel are really fun to write. The salsa/dance routine... not so much. lol Moves pulled from various movies and youtube vids.

Moral of story: Never bite off more than you can chew. And if that's the case, at least be a gracious loser. ;D


	5. RavenLenoreNevermore

{Timeline decoding:}

1.10.x = event during Chap 10 of Security Breach

Warning: Slight spoilers for DC 3 plot.

{Apply to all codes}

* * *

#############

1.10.3 Raven

#############

He lets his bike cool on the side of the road. It's been running full speed for hours, and he can tell the engine is on its last puttering breath.

The dark-haired biker leans back against the dew-covered grass, and gazes up at the stars. There are no city lights here, just peaceful, tranquil darkness. He prefers it that way. The night sky is painted with millions of glittering diamonds, and he suddenly remembers her.

Such a brilliant, colorful creature. Decorated with sequins and neon lights. Full of laughter, charm, and easy smiles.

The complete opposite of him.

Oblio makes a fist in the grass. Pulls out some strands and let them drift into the wind from his open palm.

Tan is on the move again. After Dance Central II, the CEO and founder of Tan Industries has avoided all public appearances and been laying low. DCI, as much as they try, still cannot pinpoint his exact location nor have they succeeded in capturing him. Which means... bad news for Oblio. And all the people affiliated with him.

That's one of the reasons he took off. As much as he appreciates his adoptive parents, staying will only endanger them. Especially his younger step-brother, who was willing to travel across the country and even use himself as bait so he can find clues to his whereabouts, he will be one of the first to go if Oblio does not meet Tan's demands.

The past few weeks at home are quickly fading away into a bittersweet memory. He has missed their mother's cooking. Their father's subtle humor. But the most he regrets is not being there to see how much Tae has grown. He's matured well past his peers, and Oblio can only surmise what adventures he had with the crews.

The night air begins to nip at his exposed skin. Oblio sits up, and looks towards the east. In the far off distance, a pale glow of lights marks the presence of a small town. He knows the place. He also knows that there will be a bigger sprawl of lights a couple more miles past that. Colorful, beautiful, ensaring lights of a sleepless city.

If he were a stronger man, he would not go to see her. Hope, while a precious, treasured thing, can also be dangerous. If he gives her any hope of him staying, she will hold out until she becomes another casualty in the already growing list.

As Oblio drags his exhausted body to the weathered motorcycle, and coaxes the engine back to life, he grimly notes that he is not a strong man. He is a only a man. With selfish wants and foolish hopes.

And he wants to see her one last time.

#############

1.10.6 Lenore

#############

Dare is running behind on her projects. School's already out, but she is still on campus. The late afternoon sun warms her backside as she hunches over the sewing table.

Final projects are due in a week, and the drama club is hosting a fashion show, and quite a few of her pieces were selected. She's going to have to make adjustments to this navy-colored bolero before she has the models come in on Monday for the final fitting.

She likes being busy. It keeps her mind focused and her hands occupied.

The radio is blasting the popular flavors of the week from her laptop. One of her feet taps to the beats, and doesn't stop when she feels the draft coming through the door. Usually whoever comes into her space, can show themselves right out when they see her busy. Or if it's really urgent, they'll come and tap her on the shoulder.

But when several moments pass without another sound, Dare starts to loose her groove. There's a heavy, palpable weight in the air. Goosebumps appear on her bare arms, and she knows there can only be one person who can affect a room walking in like this.

"Kyoko."

He says her name quietly, but it sounds like a thunderclap in the now too stuffy studio. Her shoulders stiffen. She hasn't heard her real name in ages, but she already knows who it is.

She doesn't let him interrupt her work. Her hands remain steady as they feed the fabric through the sewing machine, and she watches the mechanical needle bob up and down in a furious rhythm.

They both know she is pretending.

Oblio isn't sure what to expect. She's there. Just like she promised. Standing a few feet away but for all he can tell she could have been across an ocean. He's never been generous with words, and all of a sudden he is reminded of his situation.

He's here because he's weak. He needs to be better.

If he wanted to see her he could have watched from afar. But instead he finds himself walking into the building and entering the all-too familiar room. To stand before her and consequently putting her at risk.

Her silence speaks volumes. He doesn't need to ask, he already has the answer. Oblio slowly turns around and walks out without another word.

Only after Oblio is gone, only when she does not feel his presence anymore, that Dare straightens up. Her arms droop to her sides, letting the machine running amuck, ruining hours of work in a tangle of fabric and knotted threads.

Her breaths come short. The angry whirring of the machinery doesn't drown out the pounding blood in her ears. Her hands go to steady herself against the tabletop, and Dare finally lets out a choked sound.

He came back.

After an entire year of waiting he's back, and all she can hear was the goodbye in his voice.

#############

1.10.7 Nevermore

#############

He doesn't know why he's still here. Maybe he's given up on the running, the hiding. He'll wait here like a sitting duck for Tan, drinking alcohol that's much too strong while trying to forget this afternoon's incident.

Ah, it's hope again.

It comes in the form of a petite, feminine figure sifting her way through the dancing crowd. She's wearing a completely different outfit. No longer in her work clothes, Dare effortlessly draws attention with her neon pink hair and one piece dress with hand-sewn ruffles scrunching up into a half collar on one shoulder. The dark red is uncharacteristic for her, but when the fabric meets light in a certain angle, it turns to vibrant purple and fiery blue. Almost as if she is engulfed in technicolor fire.

And Oblio, nursing a glass of Johnny Walker by himself, is the poor victim of a moth. His gaze travels up from her golden stilettos to the dangling bangles by her ears. Takes in the familiar, easy smile on her face and says nothing.

Sometimes, battles are fought for a higher cause. And sometimes, there is no will to fight at all.

If she went through the trouble of tracking him down, at least he can hear what she has to say. No doubt she has tired of waiting for him. She must be angry at him for never contacting her, and he mentally prepares for the verbal assault.

What he doesn't expect is her taking the liquor from his hand, and downing the rest in one practiced motion. Dare licks her lips, sits down besides him, and asks a simple question.

"You here to stay?"

His gaze is drawn to the dip of her exposed collarbone. He doesn't realize how close she is until his cheek brushes a greeting against hers.

"No."

The truth is surprisingly easy to say. Especially when he's leaning over and her expression is hidden from his view.

"How long?"

Oblio doesn't allow himself to think. "Not long." Her hands grab him by the front of his jacket, jerks them apart, and he finds himself at the mercy of Dare's searching gaze.

"Ah you lying this time?" She asks flatly. With no trace of girlish hope in her voice. His answer is just as terse.

"I never lied to you."

Her reaction is fast and furious. Dare's delicate features twist into an angry scowl and she releases him. She gracefully slides out of the booth seat, and melts into the dancing crowd.

Oblio sighs. The battle was already lost the moment he stepped into this club. He was never a fan of this place. It's too loud, too crowded for a real drink. The only reason it is tolerable is because it's one of her favorite haunts.

With that thought, he gets up and follows the trail of brightly lit fire. Through the crowd, past the exit, into the biting cold, and then later into what must be her apartment.

She turns around and is not surprised to see him there at all. A small, hesitant smile from her. It tugs at the emptiness inside of his chest, and he gives in.

There is no need for apologies. No place for blame or regrets.

Just the two. A moth and a flame.

When he is certain she is asleep, Oblio gets up from the bed, and takes out a lighter and cig from his discarded jacket. Not bothering with clothes, he walks out onto the third-story balcony, closing the glass door quietly behind him. His elbows come to rest against edge of the railing, the lighter flicking open with well-practiced ease. He breathes in, and exhales. Watches in silence as the white smoke billows out in snake-like tendrils, and dissipates into the blue-gray dawn. Once again, he's reminded why he is weak.

He is always running.

He used to tell himself that it is to protect those dear to him. If he cuts off contact with them, then _he_ cannot use them against him. Just how he pushed his own step-brother and adoptive parents away, Oblio thought he can save them all by himself.

But that's not the case anymore. The faster he runs, the faster the past is catching up.

Oblio turns, and admires the poetic silhouette Dare's body makes against the bed. Just like her name, she is always brazen in her actions and words. She lives easily in the present, while he still dwells within the past.

A rare smile on his lips, he puts out the half-finished cigarette against the metal railing. He goes back inside, and quickly dresses. He hesitates at her side of the bed. Her hair lies in a messy halo around her head, with pink strands half strewn across her face. His hand twitches.

A weaker man would reach over and touch her face. Might even lean over and tuck the hair back.

But he is not one of those. He might not be strong, but Oblio is definitely not weak. Especially not now, after he has made the fateful decision.

There's no point in addressing a sleeping person, so Oblio leaves the same way he came.

Wordless, and leaving nothing behind.

* * *

… and the REST is history. Oblio confronts Tan, gets brain controlled... tadah!

Coincidentally, after I finished writing most of this, and was looking for titles to name the chaps, I was reminded of Edgar Allan Poe with a poem about a raven. Since Oblio and Tan's new costumes made me think about that particular bird, and Oblio's such a poetry geek, I went and looked it up. Thought it was pretty applicable to these drabbles with similar themes: scholarly guy dwelling too much on the past, mourning a lost love, a person trapped within shadows driving himself to the point of insanity... lol

Sorry for the angst. It's pretty impossible to make Oblio upbeat... and omg with my recent discovery of his real parentage, I figure it must suck big time. I don't know, for all the partying and dancing in the most recent DC3 game, all I could think abt near the end is "poor guy..." T_T Even if player beats Tan, Oblio has a lose-lose situation.

Moral: Move on from the past. Life's too short to dwell on the mistakes.


	6. HesitationFightingChallenge

{Timeline decoding:}

2.x = event after Security Breach

{Apply to all codes}

* * *

###############  
2.1.74 Hesitation

###############

His back hits the wall hard. Emilia does not waste any time. The minute they step foot into his place, her lips goes to cover his.

"I missed you," she exhales against skin. His eyes close at the sound. And answers the unspoken question by returning the kiss.

She pulls on his hair. Tugs insistently on his lower lip.

Glitch breaths her in. His right hand cups her face, and the other goes to encircle her waist. He tries to slow it down, but she will not have any of it.

It's like trying to hold a ball of pure kinetic energy. One second she's there. And then she's somewhere else. He doesn't even have time to process.

She draws back. Fists balling in his shirt, she half drags, half throws him onto the beat-up couch.

"Whoa!" Glitch exclaims at her force. She smirks mischievously and quickly jumps on top, straddling his hips.

Their mouths meet again in a clash of feverish movement. He feels light-headed. A brush of hands here. A muffled moan against skin. And suddenly he feels the chill air on his bare chest.

Glitch stops. "What are you doing?"

A husky laugh. "What do you think?"

He opens his eyes then. Takes in their position. His shirt is lying on the floor. Hers is pulled up, exposing hints of a bra. His eyebrows shoot up.

_Red? Lace? ...did she plan for this?_

The reality of what they're about to do crashes down on him. Like dumping a bucket of ice water.

"Wait." His hands stops her from undoing his zipper. She looks up with surprise.

"What?"

"I-I don't think I'm ready." Glitch hesitantly says. He cannot bear to meet her eyes.

"You look ready." She deadpans. With a pointed glance down.

Glitch flushes. Emilia starts to move again, but he grips her wrists harder.

"Let's not."

Those words must be the hardest he has ever uttered. Not only are his raging hormones howling in protest. But the disbelief and hurt that now mar Emilia's pretty features pierces something deep inside of him.

"...why?" She narrows her eyes. He lets go of her slowly. Gingerly, delicately, Glitch pulls down her shirt. She looks at him as if he's lost his mind. He sighs.

"Not eighteen yet, remember?"

"When did the law matter to you?"

He shifts uncomfortably. That didn't work.

"Don't have a condom."

"I have one."

His eyes widen. He looks around, panicking because he's running out of reasons. All of them not the real one.

"Uh... I think we're moving too fast."

"It's been almost two fucking years. I would say it's about time," she retorts. Emilia pushes off of him roughly.

"I get it. Fine. Whatever." She walks away without another word.

"Emilia! Hold up!" He calls out desperately.

The angry slam of the door answers him instead.

###############

2.175 Fighting

###############

The golden sunlight streams in from dusty window panes, lighting up the dust motes floating in the spacious warehouse. His sneakers makes squeaky noises against the plywood floor.

Curious eyes follow him as he wanders through the gym equipment, silently sizing him up. He doesn't pay them any attention. His mind thoroughly concentrating on his task.

Glitch hears the rough thuds of a piece of equipment being abused. The irregular clinks of metal chains, the heavy blows followed by animalistic grunts. And knows he found her.

He takes care to mask his footsteps as he gets closer. Grey eyes watch Emila quietly as she proceeds to viciously pommel a suspended punching bag into submission.

Sweat glistens off of her well-toned body. Strands of hair plaster themselves to her face. She's wearing nothing but a black sports bra and a pair of runner shorts. She bounces on the balls of her feet. Circling her target. Left jab, right punch. And occasionally, a solid kick for good measure. With a guttural yell, Emilia gathers all her remaining strength, using her entire body weight, and unleashes the final blow. The rope snaps with an audible sound. The fifty-pound punching bag flies, skittering across the floor.

Glitch swallows. Hard. He silently wonders how anyone can look so utterly frightening and drop-dead sexy at the same time.

"What are you doing here?" She stops. Does not turn around.

"Em, we need to talk." He takes a few steps forward. But then freezes at her angry glare.

"I don't think we do," Emilia brusquely walks past him and grabs her water bottle. She twists off the cap and takes big gulps. He watches as her throat moves with the motion. His eyes follow a droplet of sweat downward, stopping right below the collarbone and he tells himself to look away.

"You made it pretty clear that night."

"... I didn't get the chance to explain," Glitch tries again. But a hand at his shoulder stops him.

"Is this guy bothering you Emilia?" A tall, burly male asks her. His muscles ripple and strain against his tight shirt.

Glitch tries to shrug the hand off, but the big guy holds on fast. "Hey man, I don't want any trouble. Just trying to talk to my girl here-"

"Thanks Dave," Emilia shoots him a grateful smile, "Yeah, I don't even know him. Can you ...?" And she nods her head towards the exit.

Glitch whips around to stare at her with mouth open. "Wha-" He doesn't get to finish his sentence as "Dave" roughly begins to pull him away.

Glitch mutters, "Didn't want to do this but..." His right hand shoots out. Grabs the beefy arm on his shoulder. Twists his body, and using the man's momentum, flips the guy, who's twice as big as he is, over on his back. He silently thanks his parents for enrolling him in those self-defense classes.

Glitch straightens slowly, and shoots Emilia an exasperated look over his shoulder. She smirks.

"Oh, I guess you're not a complete waste of my time then."

Five minutes later, Glitch finds himself in the boxing ring, wearing a pair of gloves that is one size too big.

"Step up kid. I rather let our fists do the talking." Emilia shouts out from across the ring. She also has boxing gear on, and without warning she advances, her hands shielding her face.

Glitch sighs. "Not a kid anymore..." And barely has time to sidestep a punch.

"Well you're not a man," she shoots back. And throws another blow at his face. "Not after last night."

He dodges. His eyes narrow. "You're not holding back are you?"

"Neither should you!"

A kick. He blocks. Pushes against her and aims for her gut.

She backs away. Her foot work is impressive, he has to admit. But it's pointless for him to go on since he'll never land a blow on her. He's never hit a girl and he isn't going to start.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I did," he gasps out between avoiding her punches, "or what I didn't do. But I have reasons!"

"Like what? You're gay?!" She feints a left, takes the opening he gives as he processes her words.

"What?! No-ugh!" He falls back against the elastic ropes. He glares up at her. "Hell no, you did not just-"

"Bite me."

Glitch pushes off with a growl. Decides to fake a punch, drops, and sweeps her feet from under her. He tries to keep her down with his weight, but she easily overpowers him, legs latching around his waist and flipping him over onto his back instead.

She straddles his hips, her knees pinning him in place, and winds up the last punch.

Glitch thinks of the abused punching bag. He thinks of his family. And how he'll never see them or his friends again.

His last thought as he braces for the pain- he is actually going to die-

"A virgin."

His eyes fly open. By the look on Emilia's face, he actually said those words out loud.

The entire room seems unnaturally quiet. He chances a glance around to see if the others heard. Then closes his eyes and lets his head fall back to the floor.

Yep, his life is completely ruined now.

"What?" Emilia whispers, hushed disbelief in her voice.

"...you heard me."

"But why does that-"

"Matter?" He finishes for her. Glitch slowly props himself on his elbows. "Em, you're my first. My first crush, my first kiss, first girlfriend, and I was scared. There's so much pressure, it was happening too fast, and all I could do was panic-"

"You're an idiot."

"I'm trying to be serious here."

"So am I," she replies immediately. Her expression softens, and her hand goes to tug on the tuft of hair at his nape. "Don't you think I already know? Everything you do says 'virgin' to me."

"Gee thanks."

She pretends like she didn't hear him. "Point is, I don't care. It's you or nobody else. I'm totally serious." She slowly eases her weight off of him. "And here I was thinking you got another chick or something..."

He shakes his head. Returns her smile easily. "No way." He plays with the straps wrapped loosely around her arms. "I just... want to take it slow you know? Maybe wait a bit?"

She cocks an eyebrow at him. "You do realize the girl usually say that?" But she laughs anyways, getting off of him and making her way to exit the boxing ring.

He doesn't realize how much he missed that beautiful sound until now.

"So... we're cool?" Glitch asks hopefully. Emilia pauses in the middle of ducking through the ropes.

"Yeah, yeah we are." Her smile has a hint of mischief that leaves him with an uneasy feeling.

"We'll see how long you last."

###############

2.1.789 Challenge

###############

It became a game for her. He should have seen it coming. She loves competition. Loves pushing herself or others to their limit.

So of course Emilia would want to see how fast he can crack. Under "certain" situations.

It definitely doesn't escape his radar. The way she would innocently brush up against him. Or how she starts wearing low-cut blouses and dropping her stuff ever so often.

But the most infuriating thing is that she no longer lets him touch her.

"I thought we're going to take it slow?" she smirks wickedly, throwing his words right back at him. She turns her head last minute so that he ends up kissing her cheek. Then dances out of reach.

If it wasn't so frustrating, he might've thought it was funny. A major 'if'.

The first person to notice is Mo. After a round of practice, his older mentor comments that his rhythm is off. His focus just isn't there, and he orders the teenager to take the rest of the day off.

Second person to realize something's wrong is Taye. He doesn't even know he is zoning off until she snaps her fingers right in his face.

"Wut's gotten into ya boi?"

"Uh... I don't know?"

Lil' T looks up from her laptop. "Girl problems?" She snickers at his dirty look and shrugs. "Thought so. Why ya gotta even deny it?"

"Ya can talk to us about it ya know?" Taye grins knowingly. "Sumthin' up wit Emilia?"

He thought it's too weird to talk to them about it. They're friends with her too, and it's way too personal. So he shakes his head and changes the subject.

Back in his apartment, with his headphones on full blast, he tries to concentrate on his homework while ignoring the other occupant in the room. His object of endless frustration, clothed in a black spaghetti tank and a pair of low cut jeans, is making herself very comfortable on his bed. She flips through a magazine, laughing once in awhile at something she reads.

She comes over almost everyday after she gets off of practice. Says his place is quieter and a good place to "study".

He glances over. Her hair is still wet from an earlier shower, and he can smell the fresh scent of her shampoo wafting in his all-too-small room.

She's literally teasing him. And it isn't fair.

Glitch looks down at the same chemistry problem he's been working on for the last ten minutes. He's been drawing circles in the margins, combing his mind on how to fight fire with fire. Without losing his mind that is.

He flips the textbook shut, takes off the headphones. "I'm ready for bed." He announces.

She looks at her cell. "Oh, it's pretty late." When he doesn't say anything, she gives him her best puppy-dog look (which is more scary than anything) and asks "Can I crash here?"

"Your place is like ten minutes away. Sides wouldn't your Mom worry?"

She makes a face. "Her new boyfriend's staying over tonight."

Her words catch him off guard. Their talk on the beach two years ago immediately comes to mind. Making the smarter decision, he decides not to push the issue.

Glitch nods slowly. "Yeah, I guess so? Uh... I have some shirts and shorts you can borrow..." Glitch walks over to his closet and shows her the modest selection. She helps herself, and bounds off into the bathroom. At the slam of the door, he covers his face with his palms, cursing fate and whatever higher power who is torturing him like this.

The Korean b-boy scans his cramped apartment. Almost wishing he had gotten that couch he was eyeing last week, because now there is no choice but to share the futon bed with Emilia.

A very dangerous and hormonal Emilia.

"Bathroom's free," says the she-devil as she strolls back into the room.

He looks over his shoulder, and his mouth runs dry.

She is wearing one of his thread-bare, black Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle shirt. It hangs loosely around her, hiding her curves, and his boxer shorts actually cover more skin than her usual outfits. But something about the fact that it is his clothes she's wearing, his clothes that is making contact with her bare skin, makes it an incredible turn on.

He begins to calculate the exact digits of pi in his head. Anything to stop thinking of-

"Nice shirt," Emilia twists around to check the back, and he realizes with gut-wrenching dread she's no longer wearing a bra, "it's really comfy." With a sound of delight, she jumps into his bed and snuggles under the blanket.

"You coming?" She grins a not so innocent grin. He wants to throttle her.

"Fine, two can play at this game," he retorts. Without hesitation, he takes off his shirt. Knowing her eyes are on him, he begins unbuttoning his pants. He pointedly ignores her catcalls as he goes off into the bathroom with just boxers on.

He takes more time than usual. He brushes his teeth vigorously, washes his face, and before he heads out the door, Glitch checks his breath.

Stay cool, he tells himself. Just two people in bed. You did it before, you can do it again.

Emilia appears to be asleep as he slides into the twin-sized bed. He turns on his side, facing her, and waits.

Sure enough, a sly smirk soon appears on her face.

"Getting comfortable?" she asks. "I didn't know you like to sleep with so little on."

"Making an exception for you," he replies without missing beat. Emilia chuckles.

Something brushes up against his calf slowly. He hopes to God that it's just her foot.

"Emilia..." His voice lowers dangerously.

Her chestnut brown eyes glance up. Quickly registers his strained expression. And stops.

"Ok, ok let's just go to sleep. I'll call a truce for tonight?"

Glitch breaths an audible sigh of relief. "Sounds good." He reaches over to turn off the lamp by the bed.

_Lyin' here with you so close to me_

_It's hard to fight these feelings when it feels so hard to breathe_

A few moments pass by. He can hear the distant sounds of cars driving by. The room is dark, but the city's lights peek into the cozy bedroom in between the window's blinds. He can see the outline of her form, and the dark tangles of hair loosely framing her oval face.

_Caught up in this moment_

_Caught up in your smile_

There's a steady tide to her breaths. In and out. He can see her blink slowly in the soft darkness.

"Are you tired?"

"Not really." A thoughtful pause. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"...the last time this we were like this?"

The corners of her mouth lift up. "Yeah. Right before you left for home." Her strong voice falters a bit. "We said we'll just stay friends."

_I've never opened up to anyone_

_So hard to hold back when I'm holding you in my arms_

Glitch reaches over to brush away a strand of chestnut, tucking it behind her ear. "Yeah, I remember. And look at us now." He meets her gaze, "I'm really glad you waited for me."

_We don't need to rush this,_

_Let's just take it slow._

"Same here," she whispers back. His hand retreats, and hesitantly, it goes to cover hers. Just like it did that night.

_I know that if we give this a little time,_

_It'll only bring us closer to the love we wanna find._

"Can I-we stay like this?" he asks.

_It's never felt so real, no it's never felt so right_

Emilia finds her throat strangely tight, and she can only manage a nod. In her head, words she is too frightened to say out loud, echoes like the remnants of a dream.

"_...always."_

_So baby I'm alright, _

_With just a kiss goodnight. _

* * *

-Song "Just a Kiss" by Lady Antebellum

-I seriously didn't want to post this after watching Avengers trailer and seeing Captain doing the exact thing with the punching bag. Would anyone believe me when I say I wrote this before that movie even came out... before SB was even halfway finished. LOL

- Glitch's parents, after his kidnapping and adventures in SB, of course would enroll him in self-defense classes. Plus I could see an ten-year-old Glitch going to TaeKwonDo classes for kicks. :D

-Tried to go really abrupt and sudden in the beginning on purpose. Just so readers can get a feeling of how Glitch would feel, as if they were suddenly dropped in the situation with no control and no warning. (And in the process made Em seem like a ... raging pedo...sorry...)

Moral of the story: Need BOTH parties willing and consenting peeps. ;D


	7. ArmWrestleCalculatorBlackeye

{Timeline decoding:}

2.x = event after Security Breach

{Apply to all codes}

* * *

###############  
2. 43.5 Arm-wrestle

###############

"Hey check this out!"

"What is it?"

"It's a test, for couples! To see their compatibility or something..."

A chuckle. "Didn't think you would be into that stuff."

"I'm not," she answers defensively, "I just thought it would be fun. C'mon!" A light punch. One that promises more pain if he does not oblige.

"Ok."

"First question. Go."

"How did you two first meet?"

Emilia answers without hesitation, "Outside a club."

At the same time Glitch replies, "On the way to school." He shrugs when she turns to him in surprise.

"What? You don't remember? Mike and his gang?"

Her brows draw together in concentration. Eventually, her mouth forms an "O" and a grin appears on her face.

"You mean when I rescued you from those bullies?"

"Hey! I said on the way to school! We're supposed to have the same story here..." Glitch grumbles.

"Whatever. Next question. How long have you two been dating?"

They both pause to think this over.

"Do we count the years I was in LA?"

"Did you see anyone?"

"No, did you?"

"... maybe? A few dates here and there, nothing too serious." She catches the hurt expression on his face. "What!? You said we should stay as friends till you know for sure if you're coming back or not."

"Me? We both agreed..."

"Yea... and like I said, I had my fun but I knew it wasn't going to go anywhere. I made sure of it." She nudges him with her shoulder. "Are you mad?"

Glitch thinks about it for a minute. "Nah. I guess not." A smirk materializes on his face. "You haven't met my fanclub back at home."

Her eyes narrow at his cocky declaration. "What is that supposed to-"

"When was the first time we slept together?" Glitch cuts her off with the next question before she can finish. One brow raises up at the wording. "Isn't this a bit too personal?...Well let's just say I had bruises to show for it."

"Whoa when did this happen? I don't remember that!" Emilia turns to him with disbelief.

He sighs. Recalls the drunken bonfire incident, and earns another quiet "oh" from her. She rests her chin on her hands and sighs, "Wow we're failing this test."

"No kidding."

"Looks like we're not compatible after all."

"Guess not."

"Hey!" Emilia palms the tabletop with an indignant slap, "You're not supposed to agree with me."

He chuckles. His hands-she's never really noticed how huge they are- goes to play with her wrist band. For such clunky fingers, they sure seem nimble as they delicately pick at stray tufts on her wrist.

Emilia shakes off the wandering thoughts. She suddenly grabs his right hand with hers. He looks up with alarm.

"Let's arm-wrestle for it."

"Huh?"

"If I win, we're breaking up. If you win, we can stay together."

Glitch shoots her an incredulous look. "You gotta be kidding me- What does that have to do with anything?"

"It proves that you're willing to work hard for the relationship," Emilia answers with her game face. "You ready?"

For someone who has his love life hanging in the balance, Glitch seems surprisingly calm.

He shrugs. Decides to humor her. "Alright."

They adjust their positions so they face each other across the table. Emilia slowly counts, and at "three" she tightens her grip and pushes.

Nothing happens.

She looks down at their clasped hands with amazement. Her arm muscles flex and strain, channeling the majority of her brute strength, but Glitch's side has not given an inch.

An intense pair of warm grey watches her silently, right above their locked arms.

"Not a kid anymore," he murmurs with no trace of the previous cockiness.

She tries again. With the same result. An disbelieving gasp escapes her gritted teeth as Emilia relaxes against his solid hold, knowing there's no possible way she can win now. She waits for the inevitable.

But he doesn't move.

He watches her with brazen resolve and an unwavering gaze. There isn't even a suggestion of a smile. It's starting to unnerve her.

"Are you going to finish it or what?" she demands, trying to cover up for her flushing face. She hates losing.

"No."

He takes advantage of her momentary surprise. Tugs on her hand. Brings her forward, where he catches her mouth with his.

Glitch realizes it's a risky gamble. On one hand, she can take it in a good way. He already knows he's fallen in too deep. But apparently she doesn't.

He always had problems communicating his feelings. As he watch her become more and more flustered, her brows dancing in unison and her coral lips parting with each breath... well, at least she can agree with him that actions speak louder than words.

On the other hand, she might proceed to beat the living daylights out of him for stealing a kiss when she's enacted the "hands off" rule.

When he feels her responding, her lips gently cradling his, he almost sighs with relief.

He can count the amount of times they kissed with one hand. Truth be told, he hasn't had much practice, but he remembers every single detail.

Like how the inside of her lower lip is more sensitive than the rest. Or that humming sound she makes in the back of her throat when he does something she likes. He tilts to his left. Draws away, then goes in again, grazing her moistened lips lightly with his own.

He feels that familiar hum before he hears it.

The breath he's been holding lets itself out in a sigh of contentment. Glitch rests his forehead against hers. Closes his eyes, and waits.

Emilia lazily pulls back. Her half-lidded gaze scans his face as the tip of her tongue sneaks a lingering taste of him on her lips.

The woman half of her is silently rejoicing. Once again, Glitch manages to surprise her. This isn't the awkward teenager who couldn't form complete sentences around her. Who would blush at the slightest touch and wait till she makes the first move.

Glitch has done a lot of growing up. And if the last ten seconds are any indication, there's a lot of those implications left to explore.

While her female self is busy swooning, the male half of her prompts her to smirk and offer another challenge:

"I want a rematch."

###############

2.37.1 Calculator

###############

Midterm season rolls around. For those who still have classes and tests to answer to, dancing takes a back

They pass the calculator between them in the local Starbucks cafe. Glitch has one of those fancy graphing calculator, and is teaching Emilia how to use it to solve functions.

"Argh! This is too complicated, I'm just going to do it by hand," she declares after five minutes of fiddling with the many buttons.

She hands over the bulky calculator. "Not good for anything," she mutters under her breath.

Glitch takes it back without a word. He's already done with studying, and whatever they had planned for that day will have to wait until Emilia is done with her Calculus.

He starts to play around with the calculator. Drawing smiley faces and different shapes on the Y and X axis. When he was bored with that, he begins to mess with writing messages with symbols.

"Need help?" he asks. When he knows it's the last thing she'll ever ask for. But it's almost six, and he's getting hungry.

Her head's down, too focused on filling the margins up with long division equations to answer him.

Glitch smiles fondly. So typical Emilia.

He starts to type stuff into the calculator. After a few minutes of wracking his brain and tweaking the symbols so it'll say what he wants, he sits back in his chair. Glitch straightens up, very pleased with himself, and slides the calculator towards her.

"Oh, cool. Yeah I need it for a sec," Emilia doesn't even pause in her calculations as she grabs the device. She turns it around to type, and looks at the screen with a perplexed expression.

"What's this?" She looks at odd expression: _"1nj!+n38 14"_ and then back up at Glitch, "Were you doing something important?"

Glitch stares at her incredulously. Then looks away with a scoff. "Nah, just erase it."

Emilia shrugs. Starts typing in her numbers and then pauses. She peeks up at Glitch.

The teenager rests his chin in the palm of his hand. He's almost glaring out the window at the passerby's, but she knows it's not what's happening outside that is pissing him off. Her gut, and she always trusts her instincts, tells her it has to do with what she just saw. Thankfully, the calculator has a memory function, and she presses the up arrow to see what Glitch wrote.

_1nj!+n38 14_

Her face scrunches up in concentration. She's not as smart as him. The expression means nothing to her.

So why does he expect her to know what it means? And getting upset when she doesn't?

The rest of the afternoon drags on by. Emilia struggles through the math, while Glitch stays sullenly silent on the other side of the table. As she finishes the last problem, Emilia slams her textbook shut. She stretches out her arms, and with a grin, she asks, "Wanna go eat now?"

Glitch sighs, "Finally."

"Hey!" she reaches over to poke at one of his cheeks, "What's gotten into you? Here do you want your calculator back-"

Emilia stares. As she hands back the calculator, she realizes she's holding the calculator upside down. And that everything on the screen is a jumble of incoherent numbers and symbols. A dusty light bulb blinks in her head.

She snatches the calculator back from his hand. "Wait up... Let me-" She recalls his expression again on the screen, but this time, she turns the calculator upside down, in the original orientation Glitch had presented it to her.

Emilia gasps.

Staring right at her, on the electronic screen, the words "_hi beautiful_" blink innocently back at her.

She glance up at Glitch. He seems embarrassed now, scratching his head and avoiding her gaze.

"Uhm... can we go now?"

"Y-yea..." Emilia clumsily shoves the calculator back to his side of the table. Taking care to not accidentally touch his hand.

They leave the coffee shop in an awkward silence. Out of nowhere, Emilia stops. Glitch turns to see what's wrong.

It happens so fast he almost misses it.

Her lips brush against his left cheek in a lightning quick move. She leans back, smirking slightly at his dumbstruck expression.

"Thanks short stuff." Emilia continues walking down the sidewalk as if nothing happened.

Glitch blinks. Then he reboots with a goofy smile. He runs to catch up with her.

"Hey! I'm not short!"

###############

2.64.9 Black-eye

###############

"Ouch!"

"Stop moving!"

"Can't you be more gentle?!" His tone is more exasperated than usual.

Emilia leans back, her expression not amused. "Who's the one jumping into a fight and getting us kicked out of the club?" When he does not answer, she returns to ruthlessly pressing the bag of frozen vegetables against Glitch's swollen left eye. He hisses in protest, but keeps his mouth shut.

"I thought you had better training than that. His right side was definitely open, all you had to do was dodge that hook and go in for the kill. But no...you completely lost it, and started swinging around like it was a barfight," Emilia scoffs unsympathetically at the fresh memory. "I could've knocked him out with one solid punch."

Glitch leans back against the kitchen counter. He sighs. The throbbing pain around his left eye is slowly being replaced with cold numbness.

There's no point in telling her the other guy was bad-mouthing her behind her back, saying dirty words that he never wants to hear again. She wouldn't have cared.

So if she doesn't care, then why does he care so much?

He didn't know what came over him. One moment he was standing with his crew, the other moment him and the guy were both on the floor, trading blows and wrestling like children.

"Here, you keep holding this against your face while I go get some bandages for your lip," Emilia says.

"No."

Her eyebrows shoot up. _"No?"_

His hands leave the cool tiles of the counter, and goes to rest on her hips. He slowly pulls her in, and rests his chin tiredly on her shoulder.

"Stay," Glitch mutters.

Emilia puts down the bag of frozen veggies. The other hand goes to lightly tug on the hair at his nape. Concern colors her voice as she asks, "What's wrong? Does it hurt that much?"

When he doesn't answer, she turns and holds his face still in her hands. She carefully examines the swollen eye, notes the split lip among the other smaller cuts on his face.

"Men," she ruefully comments, "You guys always act like you got something to prove."

His other good eye turns to regard her with a baleful look. His mouth starts to retort something, but stops when her hand goes to wipe at the drying blood on the corner of his lower lip. She frowns, noting it needs moisture.

Glitch freezes when she leans forward to kiss the side of his mouth. Her tongue darts out to clean off the blood. She's not very gentle either, but he doesn't mind. Not one bit.

"Are you going to stop sulking now?" she breathes out in between kisses. He winces against the pain as he smiles.

"I'm never going to learn if this happens every time," comes the cheeky answer. She rolls her eyes. Her hands clasp together behind his back.

"Anywhere else?" she offers.

It's starting to grow light outside. The gray shades of dawn crawl in between the window blinds. His ears still ring from the club's music. His contacts are dry, and he blinks as his gaze refocuses on Emilia.

Her hair is loose: wild, untamable tangles brushing against her cheeks. A warm blend of hazel returns his gaze, the affection radiating out in waves. The makeup around her eyes is half smeared off, and he can still smell the alcohol and smoke of the city on her skin. Yet something about her right now is so irresistible he can barely keep his hands still at her hips.

He wants to say everywhere, so she can kiss and make it better. But reason takes over and Glitch shakes his head. He sees the disappointment flit across Emilia's face, then gone just as fast.

There's something unexplainable happening. He knows it. With every fiber of his sixteen-year-old self, he knows. This is not the puppy love Mo and the rest of the crews think it is. It's honestly quite painful sometimes. The anxiety, the spikes of panic, the bouts of insecurity are not welcome or pleasant.

Emilia's warm breath washes over his face, her expression gentle and soft, revealing a side that nobody else sees. She's so close. He can feel her beats, her rhythm. The chorus of a very familiar song. Moments like these makes him believe she's feeling the same way.

He doesn't just want to sleep with her.

Or screw. Or have sex. Whatever people want to call it.

That's the hormones talking and he knows it. He want to feel her nearness. To watch the expressions play across her features and attempt to solve the mysteries so many men in history cannot. To let his mind wander free, thinking of nothing and tuning in to her every frequency.

Like tasting sunshine in the rain, or hearing voices in the wind. It's intangible, not visible on the physical plane.

But it's there.

Deep thoughts float around in his head, but all he can manage to say out loud is: "Let's go to sleep. You tired?"

She yawns. "Yeah, it's six already."

"Just in time for the morning run," he points out with a nostalgic grin. Emilia laughs.

"I'm always down for early morning exercise."

Glitch groans at the bad joke. He notices she's not moving, her arms are still locked around his neck. With a resigned sigh, he pushes off from the counter.

Like a well-rehearsed dance routine, Emilia leaps up, her legs latching in place around his waist as his hands move lower to support her weight. He carries her to the bed, sits down on the edge of the mattress, and lets her push him down onto his back.

Emilia thanks him with another kiss. Light, and quick. She disentangles herself and settles into her usual side of the bed. He turns over, nestles into his favorite spot at the crook of her neck, with his left arm going over her waist and his hand weaving into hers.

"... good night," Emilia whispers into the pillow. He barely has the energy to utter a reply. It comes out like a grunt against her skin.

Her little squeeze on his hand tells him she heard. Content, Glitch lets sleep claim him instantly.

In the morning, he'll wonder if he heard correctly. It wasn't said that loud, and her voice was muffled against the pillow. It might have been a mixture of his wishful thinking and a dream.

Emilia's voice, whispering three little words in the quiet of dawn.

* * *

- Inspired by song "If You Want Me To Stay" by Ne-Yo... so much fluff but I can't help it.

- It slightly kills me that Emilia could be beaten in a show of strength... but let's be real here. Guys are predisposed with more natural upper body strength. It's freaking biological. D:

Moral of the story: I dunno, but three kisses for Happy Valentine's Day! :D


End file.
